


How the Inquisition Met Cyrel

by IrkenCupcakes13



Series: Andraste's Herald(s) [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, a majority of this takes place in Haven, each chapter has a different character, except for when Dorian meets the kid, i really like the idea of symbolic uncle!Blackwall and Bull, i'm aiming for most of this to be cute and fluffly, i'm running out of things to tag, if you wanted to know before entering, it justs seems so cute!, my Lavellan's name is Marethra, should i tag this as spoilers or has the game been out for long enough?, the herald had a kid before the inquisition, title pretty much says it all, which is when haven falls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrkenCupcakes13/pseuds/IrkenCupcakes13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyrel Lavellan, son of the Herald of Andraste, meets the Inquisitions inner circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blackwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall meets Cyrel

It’s not that Marethra was keeping it a secret. She was just with-holding certain truths. The only people that knew were Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana, who had been the ones to help her in the first place. That is, until Blackwall found out.

Blackwall had been sharpening his sword at the blacksmiths when he heard a high pitched giggle coming from behind him. He turned and found a young elven boy, fiery orange curls bouncing up and down as he tried to catch a butterfly that landed just out of his reach.

“Hey kid, you know it’s dangerous to be over here right? Where’s your mum?” Blackwall asked, gently leaning his sword against the wall as he stood, looking down at the boy.

“Mamae’s working.” The young boy, who couldn’t be more than five years old, answered simply, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he continued jumping to reach the insect.

“What about your father?” Blackwall asked, walking over to the boy and gently picked the butterfly up.

“Mamae says I’m not ‘upposed to talk about him.” He answered, shifting awkwardly as Blackwall knelt next to him, the butterfly fluttering its wings gently.

A moment of silence followed, the boy gently touching the insects wing, causing it to fly away.

Blackwall cleared his throat, deciding to change the subject. “What’s your name, boy?”

“’S Cyrel, ser.” He looked down, wringing his hands shyly.

“How about we go find your mum, Cyrel. I’m sure she’d be worried sick if she couldn’t find you.” Blackwall stood as he spoke, looking down at the boy again. Cyrel nodded and started following Blackwall in the direction of the chantry. “Where is she?” He asked, and was about to be answered when a familiar voice rang out in front of him.

“Da’len! Why aren’t you in the chantry? I told you to wait there until I was done.” Marethra kneeled down in front of Cyrel grabbing his hands gently and watching with worrisome eyes.

“’M sorry Mamae.” Cyrel hung his head. Marethra gently lifted his head by the chin, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, da'len.” Marethra said before looking up at Blackwall, who was shifting awkwardly besides them.

“I found him trying to catch a butterfly just outside the blacksmith’s. Figured I’d bring him back to a place without sharpened swords and an open flame.” Blackwall answered an unasked question, pointing in the general direction of the blacksmith.

“Thank you for making sure he’s safe.” She gave him a small smile as she stood, still holding onto one of Cyrel’s hands.

“Anything for the Herald.” Blackwall said, a small smile of his own.

Cyrel tugged on Marethra’s hand, getting her attention. “Mamae, why does he have hair on his face?” He asked, trying to be quiet but failing miserably. Blackwall let out a laugh, Marethra chuckled lightly, shaking her head at his childish innocence.

“It’s called a beard. A lot of humans and dwarves have them. Not too sure about Qunari, though. I’d have to ask Bull.” Marethra said smiling down at her son.

Blackwall chuckled, kneeling down in front of the boy once more, though he looked up at the Herald. "If you need I wouldn’t mind watching him when the Inquisition requires you.” Blackwall suggested, smiling at her and Cyrel.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly inconvenience you.” Marethra dismissed the suggestion.

“It’d be fine. As long as he’s up to it.” The warden and Cyrel looked up to Marethra.

Marethra looked back at them, sighing. “Cyrel would that be okay?” She asked, getting a small nod from the boy in question. “I guess it’d be okay.” She gave a small nod herself, a smile etching itself on her face.

“You know where to find me.” He stood, waving slightly at the two before walking off, back to the blacksmiths.

“I like him Mamae.” Cyrel said after Blackwall left.

Marethra smiled down at him as she started walking, still holding the boys hand. “Good. Now, let’s go get some lunch, ma nehn. Mamae is starving.” Cyrel nodded in agreement, happily following her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and critiques are always welcome! Thanks for reading!
> 
> This is un-beta'd so if there are any mistakes, let me know!


	2. The Iron Bull & Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Sera meet Cyrel

Bull and Sera found out while drinking at the tavern. Blackwall had just entered, turning around quickly and speaking to somebody, the door blocking their view of who it was. The warden seemed to have finished talking, as he turned around and entered fully, walking past Flissa and towards Harritt, who sat in the back.

Bull and Sera where going to dismiss it but then another, smaller figure peeked its head through the door.

“Woah kid, you gotta turn around and get outta here. You’re a bit too young to be in here.” Bull said, ushering the boy out with Sera tailing behind.

“I… I’m sorry. I wanted to know what ser Blackwell was doin’. I’m sorry.” Cyrel ducked his head, not meeting their eyes.

“What’s Beardy doin’ with a little elf? Where’s your mum?” Sera asked, leaning forward with her hands on her hips.

“Mamae’s working. Ser Blackwell is watchin’ me.” Cyrel answered, kicking the ground shyly.

“It’s Black _wall_ , kid.” The warden corrected as he left the tavern.

“Whose kid’s this?” Iron Bull asked, kneeling down in front of the young elf, knowing his height scared kids.

“Actually, this is the Herald’s kid,” Blackwall answered, crossing his arms casually in front of him.

“Oh shite! She got a kid?!” Sera exclaimed, slapping her mouth over her hand after remembering Cyrel.

After glaring at her, Blackwall sighed before continuing. “His names Cyrel.”

“What’s wrong with your eye?” Cyrel asked, pointing at The Iron Bull’s eyepatch.

“Someone stabbed it.” Bull answered simply, smiling at the small boy.

Cyrel looked at him with wide eyes. “Did it hurt?”

“Oh yeah it did. But I got this cool eyepatch, so it was worth it.” Bull tapped the silver over his eye, letting out a low chuckle as Cyrel’s eyes seemed to widen.

“You’re gonna make him think gettin’ his eye popped out is fun.” Sera laughed, leaning against Bull’s horns.

“It’s not.” Blackwall said pointedly, glaring at the two.

“Why don’t you have valla… vall… vallaseen?” Cyrel asked, turning his attention to Sera. He stumbled over the word, his face twisting in confusion.

“I’m not Dalish, kid.” She answered, pointing at her face. “Never got the valla-stuff.”

Cyrel looked confused, never having talked to a non-Dalish elf before. “Why not?”

“Because, I didn't.” She answered.

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Because. That’s it. No way ‘round it. Just is how it is.” Sera shrugged, pushing off of Bull, who looked grateful and rubbed at the horn she previously rested on.

Cyrel nodded in understanding, though he seemed a little confused still. “What’re your names?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“’M Sera, nice to meet ya baby herald.” Sera introduced herself, grabbing Cyrel’s hand and shaking it.

“And I am The Iron Bull.” He pointed at himself smugly before mussing up Cyrel’s hair with his giant hand.

Cyrel squeaked and put his hands on his head, giggling and sticking his tongue out at the Qunari.

“As much as I love to wait, I should probably get him back to the Chantry. The Herald should be out of the War Room soon.” Blackwall cut in to the raspberry battle going on between Sera and Cyrel, earning a pout from both parties.

Bull stood up, brushing the snow off the knee that he had rested on the ground. “It was good to meet ya, little guy. If you ever wanna have fun instead of wasting time with broody beard here, have your mother take you to me.” Bull said, chuckling at the scowl Blackwall sent his way.

“Or me. I could teach you how to shoot a bow, if you’d like.” Sera said, placing a hand on her cheek and stage-whispering the last bit. Cyrel seemed to beam at that, nodding his head quickly, curls bouncing around his face.

Blackwall sighed, patting the back of the boy’s head. “We gotta get back. Your mum should be looking for you now.” He said, smiling slightly at the boy’s excitement.

“Bye, The Iron Bowl! Bye Sera!” Cyrel exclaimed as they left, leaving Sera and Bull behind to laugh.

“The Iron Bowl! Hah! I’m using that from now on!” Sera laughed louder, patting Bull’s back.

“Haha. No you’re not.” Bull deadpanned, looking down at the elf.

“Try and stop me.” Sera taunted as she went back into the tavern to finish her drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and critiques are always welcome! Thanks for reading!
> 
> This is un-beta'd so if there are any mistakes, let me know!


End file.
